A Little Bit of Hope
by Yitani East
Summary: As the Philidelphia Mass Murder case draws to a close, Morgan and Ethan must reconcile their differences. Double Update! NEW Reid Update on Chapter Eight! Warning: Graphic Content.
1. Prologue

Hello. I know you are used to seeing me do Anime and Fantasy fanfiction in both of my previous accounts for those of you who are reading this story in hopes of finding something similar to Balance, you won't find it here. I will come back to Bleach Fanfiction when my interest is rekindled and I can almost guarantee you it will.

This is a sort of Pilot or a Promo. If you like the idea, I'm writing more if not, I'll probably still write in hopes you will warm up to it.

* * *

Read on friends.

Dr. Spencer Reid's position could not go empty for too long. Strauss had made her decision and she had made it clear that there was not going to be any argument. Not to mention Hotch signed off on it. No one was was happy about this. Only two months and they were already replacing Reid? They hadn't even found his body, he wasn't even declared legally dead. Yet. Counter Terrorism had offered one of their own...again. Because that worked _so well_ last time. The Letter of Recommendation almost sounded like Counter Terrorism wanted to get rid of this man.

"According to his file, he's been busted down to a desk job twice. Then they just dropped him off here." Garcia said to JJ and Morgan. A bit of pre-meeting snooping was in order, JJ had a "bad feeling" about him. "But all of his credentials match up, my furry friends. He might've failed his Psych Eval once but he's certainly outdone himself in the past." She looked up at the framed picture of Spencer Reid and laid a hands on it smiling sadly. "Don't worry, honey, no one can replace you." she said softly.

"This is unfair." JJ said. "How could they do this, he's not even..." She fell silent and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed and turned away momentarily. Garcia quietly turned the picture away from her.

"JJ, if they haven't found his body by now..."

"You don't have to tell me, Morgan, okay?" She asked in that shaky voice she always had whenever she spoke about Spencer. It was getting harder and harder to remember his voice. It just seemed like yesterday she watched him hold Henry for the first time. She abruptly turned and left the room. Derek could only watch. He'd run out of words to say. He didn't have that many anyway. That was always Reid's area of expertise.

He examined the picture of this man and sighed. He'd met the man before and talked with him many times. He wasn't too far from Pretty Boy at all. Tall, rather thin but not as bony as Spencer. He had black hair. According to Morgan, it seemed as though this man's hair was getting too long but what would he know about hair? The long hair would indicate one of two things: A lack of care for one's appearance or an obsession of such. The overly serious expression in his ID picture displayed nothing but a morose, pale, Asian American man who, judging by the faint red line over his lower lip, had an obsessive habit of chewing it and got little sleep. He was profiling him already.

"Done staring, hon? I have to..." Garcia pointed to the screen. Morgan snapped out of his funk and rubbed his brow.

"Uh, yeah sorry." Garcia frowned and reached up to touch his arm for a moment. He laid a hand on top of hers. She then stood from her chair and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back finally allowing himself to have a moment of weakness. They separated after that brief but meaningful moment.

"Hotch says he and Reid were good friends." Garcia said. "Maybe it won't be as bad everyone's saying." She offered comfort. Morgan caressed her face and kissed her cheek. They'd always skated on the boundary between dating and friendship. Was it bad that they were content to do so? Garcia had always wondered only to realize she never really cared. Morgan just smiled.

"You are my God-given solace, woman." He said. There was that smile again. The smile that was only reserved for her. If anything were to happen to Morgan too, _God forbid, oh please God no..._she would always remember that wonderful smile. Morgan left the room with a final pat on the shoulder. Penelope was the strong one throughout this whole ordeal. She'd been there for everyone. She hated to hear the things that were being said about Ethan. Reid knew the man and so did she in fact she trusted him. No matter what his file or the others said.

Prentiss was skeptical of this man. She always had been, but then again it was her upbringing that caused her to doubt those around her. And it was the Profiler in her that encouraged her to scrutinize him before she heard a word from him. She saw the ID photo just like JJ, Derek and Penelope, but that was not the man she saw talking with Hotch through the Venetian Blinds. She saw a tall, more lithe than simply bony, man with a healthy tan. His hair was certainly longer, but tied back in a ponytail. She could've sworn she'd walked into another dimension where Steven Seagal was actually attractive. He had green eyes...unusual for an Asian man and considering his last name being "Grace" he had an American parent. Penelope said it was his father. She also said the two hadn't spoken in years.

It took her a minute to realize JJ was standing there staring so hard at their new co worker she might as well have been setting him on fire with her eyes. Did she really resent him? For taking a job he was incredibly qualified for? They all missed Spencer and they all loved him and hoped even prayed he was safe...if he was still alive. But Prentiss out of all of them, was the one to actually agree with Strauss. Hotch and Rossi hadn't let on otherwise but she'd heard through accidental eavesdropping that Hotch had actually contacted Gideon but she didn't listen any further. Eavesdropping was something her mother loved to do. She wasn't even trying to follow in that...woman's...footsteps. She sighed and shook her head at her own thoughts. She should probably gives her mother more credit than that.

"It's not fair." JJ repeated for a upteenth time that day but Prentiss didn't reply this time, she simply turned back to the case files. She looked up briefly. When did Derek get back to his desk? She pretended to look at the case file and watched her friend's face. His jaw was working. She had a feeling they were thinking the same thing. It was time to accept this. They could keep holding on to Spencer for the rest of their lives, but the BAU and the FBI couldn't.

JJ seriously doubted that any of them were really reviewing the case files. Emily wasn't even looking at them. They all had pictures of Spence on their desks. After the his desk had been cleared, they found it...appropriate...to say the least. She wondered if framing the picture of him with holding Henry could count as self injury. She felt like she was stabbing herself in the heart every time she looked at it. She even placed it face down when she was working so she could concentrate. Even Rossi had a picture. It was at Georgetown. She cast a glance back up at Hotch. She knew he didn't like the idea either but he hadn't been nearly as vocal as Morgan, or even herself. Okay she was being pretty generous. She'd been _especially_ vocal.

This man just...did not sit right with her in the least. She shook his hand earlier today and she felt a distinct chill up her spine. She took it as a warning. When you become a mother you become more in tune with your motherly instincts. That feeling was not born from being around profilers. Will had chalked it up to paranoia, she blew up at him. Something she was still regretting. She wasn't sure if she could handle the sight of him sitting at Reid's desk. She would have to hole herself in her own office for that.

Hotch was all business with the man. He wore his typical Hotch face. The minute their new coworker picked up the box sitting on the floor and stood, she knew the conversation was over. The man did not smile and neither did Hotch but they seemed to be...she couldn't quite find the word...at peace with each other. Perhaps they'd been working out their differences. When they emerged from the office, JJ made a note of his choice of clothing. Mostly black, how original. Rossi looked up briefly and the two nodded to each other through the open door of his office. She realized she was standing straight in the man's line of sight.

"This is SSA Jennifer Jereau our media liaison." She had to force herself to shake his hand. He had a firm but warm handshake. He'd practiced this handshake with hundreds of other people. Most likely from his experience in the U.N. "JJ this is SSA Ethan Grace." They exchanged quiet "nice to meet you"s and parted. JJ all but stormed in her office and shut the door. This was so unfair.

A handshake could tell you a lot about a person. He'd learned that in the U.N. Shaking hands with Agent Jereau he knew she was never going to get used to him being there no matter what he did. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up every time she stared him down. She was angry and she had every right to be but not at him, he didn't even know the recommendation had been sent until a few days ago.

Agent Prentiss was neutral about his being here but skeptical of his skills. He realized failing a Psych Eval, even just once, did not look good on a resume or personal file which he was pretty sure someone in the BAU had asked Penelope to look over. She was not committed to the handshake, meaning she didn't resent him, but didn't really care for his being here. That was fine, neither did he.

He'd heard a lot about Derek Morgan by way of Penelope and Spencer. They both loved this man. Strange, Morgan hadn't been there when Penelope broke down shortly after Spencer's disappearance. None of these people were. That...pissed him off. When he shook the man's hand, he didn't expect this type of immaturity from him. Morgan practically tried to squeeze his hand off. That was a sign of aggression meaning one wrong move, and Ethan would probably have nothing to look forward to but a swift punch to the face or maybe the stomach. He wanted to say 'what're you in high school?' but that wasn't the best course of action.

"Welcome to the team." Morgan said with a nod. Ethan squeezed his hand back refusing to be outdone.

"Good to be here." He replied. They let go of each other. "Even if it is only temporary." Prentiss and Morgan were taken aback. It was a small show of respect for Reid. This also meant he hoped Spencer was alive too. Morgan watched intently as Agent Grace took a picture out of his box. It was of him and Reid playing chess. It was a candid photo from a U.N. Lecture in Georgetown. Rossi must have taken the picture.

This day could not have been longer. Honestly. Ethan felt like he'd aged about twenty years. He had endured enough awkward silences and blank stares to know that joyful acceptance was not an option. He dug in his pocket and took out a cigarette. After two years, he still hadn't quit. He wasn't sure if he could chalk it up to addiction or procrastination. He kicked an addiction before so it was probably the latter. Spencer had always wanted him to quit smoking, so did Penelope, Rossi never said anything about it. The parking garage was nearly empty when he left Quantico, that's why he jumped a little when heard David Rossi say something to him.

"You handled yourself well today."

"Thanks." He managed after a long drag. He hadn't even seen the man getting into his car. The man could certainly be intimidating when he wanted to.

"You realize you've come at a very..."

"I know Rossi." He said sharper than he intended. He turned to him and took another drag before he spoke. "I'm not here to replace anyone. Especially not Reid." He shoved his right hand in his pocket and ran his cigarette hand through his hair.

"I know that." Rossi was being quite stoical with him. They'd met in the U.N. Rossi seemed to be the only person who understood the work he did wasn't his being a "psychic" it was simply the product of his heightened powers of observation...and a master's in psychology. He didn't get his doctorate until he was forced to take medical leave after failing his Psychological evaluation. That was something he and Spencer bonded over. Both men had virtually no social life and committed themselves to work not to mention they lived in the same building. "You know I'm surprised Agent Hotchner even signed that recommendation. I don't look good on paper."

"Neither do I." Rossi replied. "I put in a good word for you." He added with a bit of a shrug. There was that humor Rossi was known for, it made him feel a little more at ease.

"You may be the only one on my side, Dave." Ethan said shaking his head. He continued walking. "Thanks for the pep talk, I'll see you tomorrow." Rossi decided that moment of obvious sarcasm go. That was just how Ethan was. Just like you couldn't stop Reid from rambling, sarcastic comments were inevitable. Dave commended Ethan on his profound respect for the position he was in.

One more week and Dr. Spencer Reid would be pronounced legally dead and still Ethan Grace, the man who, as much as he denied it, replaced him was the one who seemed to have the greatest faith that Reid would be found.

So what happened to our dear Dr. Reid? If you want to know, let me know how you like this little promo. If you like Ethan tell me. I'm open to suggestions for cases too, as long as they're within the bounds of reality. I love you readers, you make me smile.

-East


	2. Murder in Philidelphia

_I should probably say this from jump, Ethan is not Ethan the musician from the episode"Jones". Anyway, judging by the amount of reviews and the people who have favorited this story, I'd say you my lovely readers, want me to continue and so I will. I hope you all get used to Ethan...he'll be around for a while. And Reid? Oh he'll be around, you might even get a glimpse...who knows? Enough mischievous small talk. Let's get on with my non-profit fanfiction because we all know that I don't own the best crime show on CBS. Even though I wish I did._

_Read on!_

* * *

It came to Emily in an epiphany. She had seen Agent Grace somewhere before. She was reminded from a picture from her childhood. It was taken by her cousin at the Annual Easter Egg hunt on the front lawn of the White house. Ethan was the skinny somewhat disillusioned child of Senator Richard Grace. She vaguely remembered the young boy getting in a fist fight with his older brother Travis who at the time, Emily had developed a small childhood crush on. Unfortunately, Violet Grace, their mother, died shortly after. She didn't remember seeing them ever again after that.

Coming into the BAU knowing that Reid wasn't there to add any fun facts during the morning was hard. It was difficult losing someone that was such a staple in your life. Today, however was particularly hard. Everyone was sitting at the desk, Hotch and Rossi both looked like they had something very important to say...and she'd already knew what it was. They all did, they just didn't want to hear it. It was like an admission of defeat. JJ wasn't present and Prentiss could pretty much guess why. Garcia was standing behind Morgan's chair but they were unusually silent. She couldn't see Morgan's face, his head was bent. She was pretty sure she didn't want to see it though. Ethan was sitting at Reid's desk chewing on his thumbnail out of anger more than a nervous tick. He didn't lift his head to look at her, but his eyes did. Creepy.

The minute after she sat down, Hotch decided it was time to speak. This seemed unnatural to pronounce someone dead and you never see a body. This must be how all those fathers of missing children feel. He once spoke to a man whose only son had never been found dead or alive. Now he truly understood. _You never forget them. And you feel so ashamed every time you want to. _This wasn't like losing Haley. It wasn't worse, it wasn't better. It was just different. Jack was his solace after Haley was killed, with Reid all he got were disappointed stares and the sound of Reid's schizophrenic mother screaming at him through sobs.

"We have received the notice today." Hotch said solemnly. Everyone reacted so differently but practically the same. Expressions of sorrow and anger, the shifting of seats and eyes looking off to the side. Agent Grace had bitten through the cuticle on his fingernail, it was bleeding now. "SSA Dr. Spencer Reid has been declared legally dead." He spoke more but he didn't quite hear himself. He could see when each BAU member stop listening. Morgan had shut down right after he made the announcement. Prentiss was looking at him but she was studying his face not his words. Garcia and Grace looked at each other for a brief minute before they dislodged themselves from each other's line of sight. After the short oration everyone was expected to go on with their lives. But Hotch could tell that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

"Briefing room in five." Were the first words out of JJ's mouth all day. Somehow they all knew they wouldn't get away for the weekend. Perhaps it was bad to think of this case as a welcome distraction, but after months of looking at the same case file over and over with no sign of Reid, the prospect of another case was a bit more welcome than usual.

Ethan took those five free minutes to grab his second cup of coffee. He was already losing sleep over this job but he was incredibly determined to stick it out. He didn't add any sugar or milk. Garcia wrinkled her nose at the sight, she never understood his love for plain, bitter coffee and his habit of chugging it down a with barely a blow to cool it down. He shook his head like he just took a shot of vodka. With the way today has been going everyone would probably gladly take one.

"How's Agent Jareau?" Ethan asked. Garcia hadn't even realized he knew she was standing there. Why would he care about how JJ was doing? All the woman had done was send him scathing stares that even Ted Bundy would fear.

"Enough to do a briefing. How're you holding up?" Penelope said. Ethan shook his head.

"Not important. You?"

"Ethan..."

"I said it wasn't important." He set the coffee cup down. "Now, how are you feeling?"

"As well as can be expected which is not well at all. It's just a little much to take. It just makes it a little less surreal." Garcia blinked away a few tears. Ethan clapped her on the shoulder and offered a tiny smile before slipping away to the conference room. "How can you do that?"

"Do what?" He asked sounding a little on edge.

"You can just put your feelings aside for whenever you don't need them...that's...scary and dangerous and..."

"Penelope. It's just how I cope." Ethan tried to smile to make her feel better but it was just a little lip curve. He headed to the conference room. Garcia could only watch him walk away for a few moments then joined him in the conference room. Hotch and JJ were already in there. Prentiss was just coming out of the bathroom and Morgan had used the time to collect his emotions. He was the lost one to sit down.

Derek cast a glance down at Ethan, not in the mood to sit by the man. He rolled his eyes and unceremoniously lowered himself into the chair. Derek exchanged glances with the stoic Agent Grace. The man seemed unmoving. His face was fixed in a never ending frown, no matter what he said to him. He could probably curse Grace's mother and he wouldn't even blink. Derek deep down that he should probably respect this, but he could only resent it. The spark of life dwindled without Reid. With Grace, it was completely snuffed out. He could not help but want to get a rise out of this man, it was just like interrogating a suspect.

Morgan was angry. He had been ever since Reid was kidnapped. There were signs of not just a struggle but Reid must've put up a knock-down drag-out fight. There was blood, things were knocked over, over turned even a window was broken. Unfortunately, the DNA in the blood only came back as Reid's...and the bullet found in the wall was also from Reid's gun which was left on the scene. There was so much to go off of, but nothing came of it. Absolutely nothing. Now Grace was here not even attempting to fill the hole that Reid had left. He didn't know where to direct his anger, he'd been lashing out at suspects, getting carried away with all the "stunts"(as Rossi called them) he pulled. Now he actually had something to be mad at. In hindsight, however, he could finally see why such reasoning would be unfair.

"Each body was found two days apart over the past two weeks." JJ said, her voice considerably thinner than normal. Each picture was filled with different angles of seven different murdered families. Each of them been stabbed, sliced or one had even been eviscerated.

"Seven families and they're _just_ getting to us?" Prentiss asked.

"It's a low income area with a high crime rate." JJ replied. "Gang fights, knife fights, gunshots all common." She managed to catch Ethan's scrutinizing glance at the board as if he recognized something.

"Yeah but entire families?" Morgan asked. "This doesn't look like a gang beef to me." There was a general murmur of agreement save from Ethan who was still intently flipping through the pictures with his brow furrowed. "A knife can't do that. Even your typical knife knife can't...that woman's head has been cut off all at once with a normal serrated knife it would take multiple strikes maybe even sawing."

"Morgan's right." Ethan said not looking up from the pictures. "I've seen bodies like this in Darfur. Most of them cut by crude machetes."

"Who would carry a machete in the middle of downtown Philadelphia?" Morgan asked the tone of his voice intentionally striking a bitter cord in Ethan's brain.

"It was just an observation, Agent Morgan." Ethan replied his quiet voice gaining a bit of an edge. "Whoever is doing this has a very large blade that's well taken care of judging by the depth of a single cut...and they're angry."

"All the victims are the same demographic all Black families particularly light skinned." Rossi replied. "That's all we have for Victimology." JJ took down the pictures.

"Pack your Go-bags. We're headed to Philadelphia." She said not looking at anyone before she left. Only Hotch and Prentiss caught the traded glares between Grace and Morgan. Hotch made mental note to never put them together.

Even on the jet, the friction between Morgan and Grace was palpable and the heat was rising. Ethan hadn't lost his temper at all. Which stunned Prentiss and Hotch but Rossi wasn't and if Garcia was here, she wouldn't be so surprised either.

"How many of the female victims were raped?" Ethan asked looking out of the window now instead of the photos. He tapped his pen on his stenographer's pad and chewed on his bottom lip. Still thinking, I see. Prentiss thought.

"Seven." She said. "One man was sodomized."

"So this person left out the children and elderly women on purpose. None of them are younger than eighteen and all but one of them under forty." Hotch said. "One the victims...Olivia Castor...was forty-two but judging by these pictures you never would've guessed."

"So he prefers younger women." Rossi said shifting in his chair. "There's no overkill though...he does what he wants, cuts them and leaves."

"That's a lot for one man to do. Considering the large families he attacks, they could easily overpower him." Morgan replied rubbing his eyebrow.

"So the possibility of multiple unsubs." Ethan added writing more notes. Morgan looked furtively down at the notepad.

"We don't need notes." He said.

"No but I do." Ethan replied finishing up the notes. "It helps me." He looked over at Rossi, who was sitting across from him, for a brief minute and looked over the pictures. "This screams of disorganization...but this seems systematic, he definitely goes in with a purpose." Hotch dished out the orders.

"Okay, JJ find out what's been leaked to the press. Grace, Prentiss victimology. Morgan, you and I will talk to the head of homicide. We clear?" They all nodded and prepared to land.

* * *

_So tell me, dear readers, what do you like? What do you hate? Reviews are love, spread them. Still open to suggestions! I love you readers!_

_-East_


	3. The Work

_Hello Readers!_

_Firstly I want to thank the anonymous reviewer Alys for that lovely information they provided me with. This proves that Wikipedia is a liar. Thank you so much and it will be remedied at once. Anyway. I hope you all are getting used to Ethan. A lot of people are asking about Reid and I say be patient you'll see him soon. I promise. We all know I don't own this awesome show that goes without saying. I'm going to leave you all to reading now. I hope you enjoy._

* * *

JJ managed to wipe the pale, distraught look on her face for the time being as she shook hands with the Head of Homicide Linda Riesling a tall, fairly intimidating Black woman with a little too much make up. Considering the conservative pantsuit, she was all business but there was just something about that blue eye shadow and strangely colored lipstick that just didn't scream "detective". Her serious expression almost reminded her of Agent Grace...if he was Black...and a woman...and wore make up.

JJ had to fight tooth and nail to separate herself from the different flavors of regret and depression that threatened her mental stability. She barely succeeded today, but hopefully in time it would get a little easier. How did the song go again? _Scars will heal/you'll love again/It won't hurt afterwhile._ She wondered if Yolanda Adams knew what the hell she talking about.

"You must be Special Agent Jareau." Detective Riesling said shaking hands with JJ who was at least nine inches shorter than her six feet and 3 inches without the heels. "We've never quite had a serial murderer on this scale." Morgan and Hotch had spoken with the woman via business call on the jet only to find there had been an eighth murder. So instead the tasks previously assigned, they all had to be briefed once more on the newest victims.

"We'll do everything we can. These are Special Agents Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan ans Dr...sorry... Ethan Grace." They each nodded in greeting trying to ignore JJ's slip of the tongue. For just a second, Ethan's trained gaze faltered to something a bit more human, but ONLY for a second.

Pleasantries dispensed of, the team was briefed on the eighth murder. It was the same demographic: Black, fairly light skinned families with more than five people. All seven family members including a one year old baby boy was killed, cut open with a large blade. This time, a possible murder weapon was found. A butcher knife encrusted with blood, the finger print and DNA tests had yet to come back from the lab.

"One sexual assault victim Lydia Raymond. Twenty years old." Detective Riesling said with a sigh figuring the MO was changing.

"All of the other women in the family are out of the unsub's preference." Prentiss said. She'd refined the Victimology with Grace on the jet. "The only way any of these families are connected are their skin color and socioeconomic status."

"So he's targeted lower income Black families...why?" The detective asked looking skeptical and curious at the same time. One would think such an expression would be impossible but the BAU saw it almost every day.

"Well, we've come to the conclusion that the Unsub or...in this case multiple unsubs..."

"Multiple suspects? How many?" Riesling asked. Ethan looked incredibly perturbed for a minute and Rossi gave him a look before he could say anything regarding the interruption. Ethan merely cleared his throat.

"We don't quite know yet." Ethan replied, his voice only a shade darker than the previous. "But one man attacking this many people seems highly unlikely even with a knife and considering the build of some of the male victims, he'd need help."

"Were looking at the possibility of three or more." Prentiss replied. The team all looked back at Riesling who seemed to be at a loss for words for a minute. She looked like she aged about ten years with a few minutes. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Fantastic." She groaned. Honestly, they felt bad for Riesling having just been promoted to Head of Homicide, this was one hell of a first test for her. For having a last name dubbed after a wine, she sure looked like she could use a glass. _Maybe two..._Rossi thought. Hotch took the small silence and rose from his chair.

"Special Agent Rossi and I will accompany you to the crime scene. Morgan you stay with Grace and Prentiss and continue to work on the profile. JJ..." He didn't even have to say it.

"Press control." JJ said holding up her cell phone as if to say "way ahead of you, boss". A small nod was all she needed to to be reassured of the great faith he placed in her everyday. As they exited the building with Riesling, Aaron couldn't help to realize he'd made a terrible mistake. With things happening so quickly, even he had pushed the silent conflict between Morgan and Grace. Even though he'd tried to separate them before on the jet, he began to think having to separate grown men was a step too far. It was hard to not think like father when regarding his team. They weren't little boys on a road trip. He counted on Prentiss to very angry with him though. He was surprised that there was never a problem like this in the BAU before. He would've discarded the thought from his mind, if Rossi hadn't said something out of ear shot from Riesling, of course.

"You sure it's a good idea to leave those two together?"

Alone in the conference room with two feuding and equally powerful forces, Emily couldn't help but feel gypped. The silence was practically crushing her head on both sides. Ethan trained his eyes on the pictures. He was chewing on his lips again.

"What is it?" Emily asked him.

"This just seems odd to me, that's all." Ethan replied chewing on his pencil for lack of cigarette.

"Serial Murders aren't exactly conventional." Morgan said. Simple words veiled the underlying insult.

"Not what I meant." Ethan said not looking up at him and holding up a hand. That was a tad condescending. "I mean...I saw this type of cutting and brutality in Darfur. Odd for such an urban setting."

"We've had cases like this before. " Morgan said irritation evident in his voice. Prentiss shook her head to show she agreed with Ethan. Someone had to intervene.

"But with every case, there is normally a single unsub with a signature and they were far more organized." She held up a picture. "There's no staging, no signature, no remorse."

"They just want to destroy everything. Or everyone." Ethan sat back finally looking up. Something in his mind told him this was too much of a coincidence. "The Unsubs are inspired by hatred for these people." To his surprise, Morgan seemed to agree so he continued. "This is too similar to genocide...targeting large families and breaking the women. They watch the men die, and out of fear they'll submit to their attackers. If they resist, they die faster."

"Maybe this person was inspired by the events in Darfur?" Morgan asked. "Maybe even the Holocaust?"

"Maybe even Rwanda." Ethan said nodding.

"So we have a why...now we need a who." Prentiss said. "It's going to be an all nighter. We need to solve this before this guy kills another family."

At the crime scene, Rossi and Hotch were left to examine the bodies after the Crime Scene Investigators were done processing the scene. CSI Rosner escorted them around the grotesque bloody bodies.

"The door knob was completely removed just like the others. Unscrewed and everything. No one saw him go in or out. One sexual assault all the rest are either too old, or too young to fit the "type" you described to us before. Just pure violence."

"Like war." Rossi said. Bending down to the body of Lydia Raymond, a yellow 3 was placed by her hand, it was most likely curved into a fist when she was killed. The 3 highlighted a silver chain dangling from her fist. The clasp had been broken. "She's put up a hell of a fight." Rossi said. He looked down at the charm attached to the necklace, it was a crucifix.

"The assailant may have torn that off of her neck." Rosner said to the answer question. Hotch's typical frown deepened considerably. Rosner didn't have to know the man to know he'd said the wrong thing. "What is it?"

"It couldn't have belonged to her." Hotch replied going to a bookshelf in the low rent apartment. In life, with all seven people, this small apartment must've been packed. He scanned the shelf. It was mostly full of Photo albums, Fiction and Philosophy books one book in particular was Nietzsche. The father was once a Philosophy professor until the school's program was cut and he and his wife who had no college education had to support their large family and daughter is college with next to nothing. "No bibles and Nietzsche. This wasn't a religious family. That necklace wasn't hers."

"So it belonged to one of the unsubs. That means the blood under her fingernails is probably the attackers." Rossi said. Rosner nodded and called one of his team, a female to swab Lydia's nail bed.

"This'll be the first time they left any DNA." Rosner stated shaking his head. Rossi and Hotch glanced at each other. They were both going to say the same thing, they already knew it. Rossi just turned back to the body. Aaron was the director, let him do the talking.

"There's a chance he may not even be in your database." Hotch said. Rosner was offended. Philidelphia had the largest database in the country*. "There's a chance these unsubs are otherwise upstanding men, no criminal records. Rossi's cell phone rang. He got up and slipped out of the apartment.

"Rossi." It was JJ and she sounded pissed.

"Something got leaked to the press."

Samuel Itombe took his breakfast, a bottle of Jack Daniels, off of the nightstand. It wouldn't make his hangover any better, but it was something to fill his stomach. It was Akki's turn to bring food and he wasn't back yet. It was barely 6am. He and Akki had been up all night, doing their Work. They would destroy the large families first. Roaches travel alone but they all had a nest to go back to, this flithy neighborhood was crawling with them.

Night after night, Akki would take off the door knobs. He could smell a large families of roaches cramped in their tiny apartments. Roaches were people who lived like the Tutsi. They were too light skinned, sucking out the life's blood of any country they lived in. His machete would stop them, if he and Akki killed enough maybe they'd all leave and if they didn't get the message, he'd just have to kill them all and he'd finish what the Impuza Magambi started. The scourge of the Tutsi had even followed him here in the U.S. Where you were supposed to live your dreams. But that despicable cockroach killed his dreams, all of them. He lost his job, his wife and she even took their little girl. The only one human who remained loyal to him was Akki.

The loyalty of his fellow refugee and closest friend made him realize that The Work could not be abandoned. Even in America the Tutsi had to be eradicated. They started killing the roaches in their nests two weeks ago. It was better with alcohol flying through their systems, slicing them open and watching the women struggle helplessly. But he and Akki only liked the pretty ones. They also used condoms, never know what types of diseases those things may carry. The only thing that kept him from killing every night, was his drinking. He had to sober up sometime, and The Work couldn't stop just because he decided to kill over on liquor. Before he was done with his bottle of Jack, he could hear Akki letting himself back in. The younger man left the bags of what appeared to be gas station fried chicken, on the counter top and rushed to their tiny tv turning it on.

"Angalia habari! Geuka katika televisheni ya. Angalia habari!" Akki implored him in Swahili. He wanted him to watch the news. He almost ignored him, he didn't come to America to speak the same language they did in Rwanda. Some early morning reporter was standing under the window of the Roach Nest he and Akki had destroyed not hours ago.

"...the murders happened only some hours ago." Reporter Maria Olivier said clutching her microphone like a weapon. "We have an inside source telling us the FBI has come to investigate. But no real progress has yet to be made. Philadelphia wakes up this morning fearing for their lives wondering who did this? Why? What message is their to send by senseless violence?" Samuel could not have been more infuriated.

"SENSELESS?" He ignored Akki's Swahili this time. "This Work is not _senseless_! It's a mission!" He hurled his bottle at the tv so far, the reporter could probably feel it. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed his machete panting angrily. Akki tried to sit him back down, pleading with him to not go out there, the sun was rising, they'd be caught. But it wasn't Akki who finally got him down. It was Mr. Jack Daniels. The massive amount of alcohol threw him to the ground. He'd have to wait another night to continue The Work.

_The complicated names in Swahili will all be explained. I promise. My next update will come in the next two weeks if not the next few days. I love all you readers as usual. Keep a good look out! _

_-East_


	4. Prison: A Spencer Reid Update

_I've been reading the reviews and I found that all of you have one thing in common. You want to see Spencer. I've realized I was a little unfair to you guy, depriving you of you Junior G-man. I will give you an update on his condition every few chapters. I warn you, this has hints to non-con and child molestation. If you can't handle it, don't read it. Now that said. Here you have it, your glimpse at Spencer Reid._

* * *

A rusty white pick up truck with an expired license plate pulled up to a meager El Cheapo, a truck stop in rural Waycross, Georgia just North of Savannah. Exit 78 was more trees than civilization. The gas station was surrounded by a pine trees like prison walls. Or the walls of a basement with nothing to separate you from the freezing concrete floor but a raggedy mattress and a threadbare blanket.

"Be good, Josh." The driver said caressing his passenger's face affectionately. His smile was sweet but still somehow twisted. The passenger closed his eyes tightly as the calloused hand stroked his face. Once the rough skin left his face he was able to manage a weak smile.

"I will, Ben." The passenger replied quietly. He opened his mouth a little, hesitant to make a request. "Could you leave the air on?" He asked. "It's a little hot." Ben's smile suddenly vanished and a pang of fear hit Josh before he bent his head avoiding looking into those eyes again. Ben took the key's of out the ignition and got out of the truck muttering about the price of gas.

"Josh" let his gaze wander outside as a van labeled "Seventh Day Baptist Church" most likely painted on when the van was bought for the church. The paint was chipped, old and slowly coming off. However, under the name of the church in larger, more dynamic font was "Army of God". This had to have been painted recently and by latex paint. Two people, a man and a woman got out of the car and opened the doors to the van. Children poured out laughing and getting a chance to stretch their legs. He smiled sadly. He wished he had a chance to do the same. He glanced down at his hands.

They were chained low enough so they couldn't be seen through the window. The man took one half of the kids inside, most likely to go to the bathroom and the woman stayed outside with the other six children. A sad smile crossed "Josh's" face. The yearning to be free of his captor, now burned more than ever. It never hit him more than when he saw children playing and running around. He made eye contact with a little girl. She was small with pigtails. She was separated from the group. She had all the signs of a little girl troubled by grown up problems. Possibly a divorce. She strolled aimlessly about whilst the woman kept a very close eye on her.

"Josh." He was startled out of his stupor by his master.

"Yes, Ben?"

"I'm going inside. I'll be back." "Josh" nodded meekly.

"Okay. I'll be waiting." He replied trying to sound affectionate. Once Ben vanished into the store, he pulled at the restraints. Last time, Ben got lazy and they weren't secured. He almost got away that time. Almost. Apparently Ben had learned his lesson because his bonds were shorter than normal. He rested his forehead on the sill of the open car window only to find the little girl who had been walking about all but three steps away from the truck staring at him intently.

"Are you on a trip too?" She asked.

"Uhm...kind of." "Josh" replied. The girl seemed to be intent on staring at him. He was struck by an idea. "What...what's your name?" He asked her. He doubted the two church workers could do anything for him. He dreamed about those who tried to help him in the past. He could still smell their blood, and her their screams. Ben was a cold, ruthless killer. "Josh's" hope was dwindling by the minute.

"Katie."

"Katie, huh? That's a pretty name." Katie smiled bashfully.

"Are you gonna tell me you name?" she piped up. "Josh" thought of which name to use. Should he say "Josh" or his real name. He hadn't been allowed to use it in so long. If he hadn't written it down in that notebook so many times, he would've forgotten it a long time ago.

"My name is Spencer. Spencer Reid." He said the name sounded so weird to him now. He hadn't even said it out loud in a such long time.

"Where are you going, Spencer?" Katie asked.

"I dunno yet I think we're going to Savannah. Where are you and your friends going?" Katie didn't seem too happy about that question.

"Oh we're going to Savannah too, for a church trip." she replied glumly kicking the pebbles at her feet.

"You don't want to go?" He asked observing her reaction. No matter what torture Ben put him through he would always be the observer and profiler he'd always been.

"No." She answered shaking her head shyly.

"Why not?" He was interrogating the kid like he had in the FBI. He briefly recalled an incident at a mall he interrogated a thriteen year old boy with the help of...of...Dirk? No, Derek...Derek Morgan. That's right. He tried every night to remember their names but it had been so long, he was having trouble remembering their faces now...but he could still hear their voices. That's all that mattered. He knew deep down, they haven't given up on him.

"Because I dun like Mister Albright." Katie said. She fidgeted and crossed her arms over his chest. She was protecting herself from something, wishing she could hide from it. "He's all, kissy and touchy...it makes me feel funny." Suddenly, Spencer, no longer "Josh" for the time being, forgot all about his own struggle and focused on the little girl.

"Touchy? How? Where does he touch you?" He asked trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

"Where teachers say it's bad to touch." Katie said frowning even deeper now. She wanted to cry but had conditioned herself not to. "But Mr. Albright said if I don't let him, God and mommy'll be mad. Mommy doesn't talk to anyone when she's upset." She finally sniffled. "I don't wanna be lonely like when Daddy left. She got so upset, she stopped reading me stories for a long time." Reid's heart ached. He tried to console her with words, the only thing she had left.

"Katie." He said calmly. "You can't let him treat you like that okay?" He said gently. She nodded meekly. "Look at me." She did. "You don't let him touch you like that again. Ever. You have to call the 911 when he does. Does he do it to the other kids?" He asked. She nodded. "Then you need to call 911. Do you hear me? Does your other chaperon know?"

"Yeah..." Spencer would tell her to get in the car and come with him to the next police station but that was not a option. Ben would submit that girl to a hell much worse than the one she already experienced. "When you call the police tell them you know Dr. Spencer Reid. Do you hear me?" The girl absorbed every bit of information and nodded. She ignored the woman calling her name. Ben was coming back. He turned back to her quickly. "Remember, the next minute you find a phone, call 911." Katie was finally torn away from the car by her irate chaperon as Ben got in.

"Bye Spencer!" She called out waving. She was scolded and roughly seated in the van with the rest of the children. Reid was afraid to turn around as Ben's driver side door shut. He watched the van drive away as Ben's angry gaze burned the back of his head.

"What did I say about talking to other people?" Ben asked simply. Spencer was afraid to answer. Ben grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. Spencer cried out in pain. "What did I say, Josh?"

"Not to!"

"Right and what were you doing just then?" Ben's grip didn't slacken.

"Talk..." Ben's grip tightened. "Agh! Talking!" He scrambled to explain himself. "But she's just a little girl and she-" He was cut of by a punch to the face.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Ben was seething. Spencer felt his heart drop into his stomach, he knew what was coming next. He could move his hands to defend himself as Ben raised his meaty fist again and began to punch Spencer repeatedly. "Don't speak to anyone. If I see you so much as LOOK at someone. I'll. Kill. You." With each word, Ben's fist thundered on any part of his body within reach. He beat Spencer until he was out of breath. He beat the former profiler into a sobbing pulp. Suddenly, he began to affectionately pat Spencer's hair. "I just want you to be good, Josh. I don't want you to get into any trouble."

"I'm sorry, Ben." Spencer said weakly. "I-I won't do it again." Ben stroked his cheek and turned his face toward his.

"I know. I trust you." He placed a hand on his face and kissed his now swollen, and split lip, sucking the blood off his lower lip. "I love you, Josh." He said. Spencer's voice grated against his throat.

"I love you too, Ben." He forced the words out one by one. He bent his head trying to calm down before he cried. He didn't want Ben to touch him anymore. The truck rumbled back onto I-16. Spencer, now "Josh" once more, watched the walls of trees pass. He was in prison. He was fast losing hope that's he'd ever be free.

Back at the El Cheapo, LaQuita Jenkins, the cashier was on the phone. She saw the scene in the truck and had every right to be concerned. She picked up the phone and called the police. He just beat mercilessly on that poor man then kissed him like nothing happened. Having seen an abusive relationship at first hand, she knew all the signs. She told the police everything she saw and described the car.

It was only a fifteen minute into the ride from Waycross, when Spencer felt his heart tighten at the sound of sirens. _Please don't be for us...please don't be for us..._Ben slowly pulled over and took a deep breath and pulled over. The silence was sickening as he waited for the lone police man to get out of his car. He slowly reached behind his seat and pulled of his precious sawed off 20 gauge. Spencer shut his eyes and wished so badly he could cover his ears. The man never got a word out before the shotgun fired. The body let out an audible crunch as Ben drove over it as he continued down I-16 to yet another prison for his unwilling lover.

* * *

_Don't worry, you'll see Katie again. And you will also see Spencer. Don't forget I love you readers and I'll be back soon!_

_See you later Wobbly H!_

_-East_


	5. Crossing the Line

_I see you all liked the little update I gave you last week. I thank you for all of your generous comments. Now we're back to the case. The facts in this chapter are taken from Wikipedia, if they are wrong please __**gently**__ steer me in the right direction. It'd be greatly appreciated. Once again thank you for reading I hope you all like this chapter. _

_Read on!_

* * *

Ethan, Emily, Derek and JJ watched the wall mounted TV play the early morning news. Each with especially disgruntled expressions on their faces. Not only had they been up all night, this reporter was not just terrible but using all of the worst possible words to describe the murders. JJ was frustrated. "Senseless", "Pointless", "Mindless"...These were just the words to piss off an Unsub which they only did unless they had a legitimate way to _catch_ the criminal. JJ's press conference was supposed to take place at ten once they had a profile, but now she was due for one at 7:30.

"Tell them we're ready." Prentiss said in a "looks like we don't have a choice" tone to JJ before walking off to get a cup of coffee. Ethan was already standing there pouring what was mostly likely his third cup in a row. She didn't even have to ask. He wordlessly handed her the coffee pot. "Thanks."

"They find the leak?" Ethan asked there was a touch of bitterness in his voice. He must've really hated the press.

"A patrolman caved into a bribe. Riesling was hoping to wait for the profile to get out before they sent out an APB." Prentiss said shaking her head.

"The press are a bunch of skeezy bastards they'll always find a way to scrounge what they want from any source even they have to make stuff up." Emily turned back to Ethan from her coffee gazing at him incredulously.

"Bitter much?"

"Sorry." He really didn't seem all that apologetic. "It's a long story." He sipped on his coffee trying to get his bearings back.

"Not used to 48 hour days?" Prentiss asked smirking slightly. She even didn't expect Ethan to reply, much less smile. He even chuckled.

"Not with a limited supply of coffee, anyway." He replied. "In Counter Terrorism, well my job anyway, the adrenaline is always pumping. I'm not used to the waiting." Now it was Emily's turn to chuckle. They had a while, all of the off duty officers had yet to arrive.

"You'll have to." She paused for a brief moment causing Ethan to raise his eyebrow curiously with a hint of concern. "I have a question." She began awkwardly. He didn't waste her time with "and I have an answer" that won points with her. "Do you remember Spring of '80? in D.C.?" She asked.

"I was three."

"Yeah I guess you don't." She said sounding disappointed. "It was an Easter egg hunt. Your father took you and your brother to an Easter Egg hunt. And I..." She paused and studied his face. "You think I'm strange now." Ethan scrambled hoping he didn't hurt her feelings or at the least seem rude.

"No, no...it's just I _do_ remember that, I just never made the connection...you had to be...what...ten years old? Isn't that a little old for Easter Eggs?" Emily smiled.

"That's what I said. But Travis was there too. That's your brother's name, right?" She offered. She'd taken another sip of her coffee and she didn't catch the scowl that passed his face, but his tone remained conversational.

"He was only eight at the time."

"Really? I had sort of a crush on him. I guess Garcia was right about that whole younger men thing..." Ethan would've asked her to expound on that but he was too busy sucking down caffeine. "How is he?"

"Who?"

"Your brother, Travis." She reiterated. Ethan shrugged not missing a beat.

"I wouldn't know." He replied uncomfortably. Emily didn't even have time to feel bad about bringing up an obviously sensitive subject when Morgan gestured for them to reconvene. Ethan chugged his coffee down and muttered something under his breath as they joined him in the atrium with the gathering cops.

Honestly, Ethan wasn't used to these situations. At Counter Terrorism and the U.N., he was put in the room with one person, normally an accused war criminal, and then he wrote a _written_ report. He never actually had to speak to his constituents. He'd bite the bullet though, he couldn't stand to let Derek Morgan see any signs of weakness. He was beginning to fade under the pressure. He wasn't Reid and that was all the reason the man needed to hate him? What did Morgan want him to say? Or do? Could he even find the words? Ethan had discussed Morgan over numerous games of Go and chess. Spencer respected and admired Derek like an older brother and at times, it sounded like a little more than that. He wanted to befriend the man out of respect for Spencer. However, neither man's pride would allow them to even try to get along.

"Where're Dave and Agent Hotchner?" Ethan asked.

"Still on their way with Riesling." Morgan replied in a hushed voice. Ethan was wound pretty tight, he could almost see the tension exuding from him. "They'll be here in a second. They said to start without them, since we're racing against the clock."

"Yeah." Ethan replied, he stopped listening after "still on their way".

"Remember you're covering the racial aspects of the pro..." Ethan's pride could not let the potentially condescending instruction go.

"I know Agent Morgan." Ethan replied slowly, not looking at him.

"I'm trying to help you out." Morgan said darkly. "You're the one who needs notes."

"Don't even." Ethan declared still in a quiet but terse voice still looking only at their growing audience of uniform and plain clothes cops. "I'm not here to live up to _your_ expectations."

"According to your file, expectations aren't really your thing." Morgan replied not missing a beat, really it was a wonder that these two hadn't choked each other by now.

"My history is none of your business." Ethan said his voice matching Morgan's quiet but sharp tone. "My personal life won't interfere with my job."

"It obviously affected your last Psych Eval." Morgan replied. Suddenly the rope between them tightened considerably. Ethan finally turned to him gazing at him dangerously. He could simply feel that he'd crossed a line. Deep down, Morgan knew he'd gone too far.

"Good you're all here." JJ said to the cops stepping in front of Morgan and Grace. She probably came from the bathroom washing her face since her hair was a little wet. She looked more haggard than the rest of them. This press leak fell on her shoulders. The first chance she got to scream out in frustration, she'd take it. But judging by the way this day was going, she'd have to wait until she got home to find a pillow and scream into it. "Good Morning. We're sorry to have to do this at such an ungodly hour." She added a light tone to it, and a few of the policemen laughed quietly. "For those of you who don't know, I'm Agent Jareau." She gestured to each of the agents behind her as she spoke. "This is Agent Prentiss, Grace and Morgan." Each nodded as they were introduced. Emily spoke first.

"This is a very unconventional profile." Her tone was laconic and strictly business, a true professional. She was definitely bred from politics. "By reviewing the crime scenes and the patterns of behavior we've concluded that there is more than one unsub."

"Unsub?" One of the cops asked, understandably unfamiliar with the term.

"Unidentified subject, we try not to flatter them by mythologizing them." She explained and the man nodded in agreement with the reasoning. "These criminals are disorganized killers. They only pride themselves on how many they can kill and terrorize. In spite of that, however, they are on a mission. As these things go, we can safely assume that there is a dominant figure in this partnership and the submissive is either scared of the dominant figure or is coming along simply for the thrill. We have more evidence of the latter since your lab has collected two different semen samples.

"These criminals would be young." Morgan said seamlessly moving on. "Not over thirty. They are confident. Your lab also found trace evidence alcohol, mostly low end vodka. One of the Unsubs is drinking heavily but as you all know, none of these samples have come back with any known offenders. The dominant Unsub was most likely an upstanding man. Though young, he was most likely married with a child, had a good job and a college education. The submissive is most likely younger and works a menial job minimum wage job." Ethan took up the reigns to finish up the profile.

"These crimes are reminiscent on the Tutsi Genocide in Rwanda in 1994. The crucifix brought it from the latest killing, had Impuza Magambi engraved on the back. Impuza Magambi was a Hutu militia instrumental in the systematic killing of over over 80,000 Tustsi in a matter of months. Tutsi were distinguished by their longer noses and lighter skin, every victim matches that type. On the eve of the violence Tutsi Genocide, most affluent families fled the country. These killers were old enough to understand what was happening but not old enough to take part and they immigrated with their families. That puts them between in their late twenties. These men have suffered some sort of recent perceived injustice most likely fired by a boss fitting the victim type or a divorce."

"We're looking at two men of varying builds, in their late twenties. Very dark-skinned and they most likely still have heavy accents. They immigrated here at middle school age. The dominant unsub speaks at least three languages: French, Swahili and English. Our technical analyst is looking into immigration records as we speak." JJ said rounding up all the information.

"A trilingual killer?" A detective asked.

"Yes, it was mandatory for children to learn French in private schools in Rwanda and Swahili is the most common language in Rwanda." Ethan replied.

"Swahili?" The detective asked looking extremely worried. "We don't have a translator for that language."

"We do." Prentiss replied. "Agent Grace is fluent is Swahili." Eyes shifted to the Asian man skeptically as if to say "are you sure you didn't mean the black guy?". The detective nodded.

"We'll get out an APB as soon as possible." He said. Riesling was right to put him in charge while she had gone with Hotch and Rossi.

Hotch and Rossi were sent the profile by text and by the time they'd arrived, the small crowd was dispersing. Hotch could tell by the general buzz of conversation amongst the cops, that it had gone well. Rossi's eyes, however, were on Ethan as he beelined past both them outside taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Rossi nodded to Hotch. He didn't have to speak for the man to understand where he was going. He went outside and spotted the younger man already smoking.

"You should really stop smoking. It never helps." Rossi said. Ethan didn't reply. "What's going on, Grace? You normally don't crack like this. Job getting to you already?"

"No." Ethan replied sounding just a bit defensive.

"Then what is it?"

"Morgan." Ethan said reluctantly.

"I knew leaving you two together was a mistake." Rossi muttered more to himself than his young friend. He watched Ethan take a long drag before he spoke again. "Honestly, he's never acted like this."

"Never would've guessed." _Ethan's sarcasm should be patented. _Rossi thought rolling his eyes a little. "I'm not Reid. I get it. Everyone loved him. I'm nowhere near the kind of person he was, he treats me like I don't know that." He disposed of the cigarette butt with an angry sigh. "He even brought up my Psych Eval." One of the most humiliating moments of his life.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about, he just saw it on a piece of paper. Besides, it was three years ago." Rossi felt the need to defend Derek. Besides JJ, Morgan took Spencer's disappearance the hardest.

"Doesn't make it any better." Ethan retorted. He took out another cigarette but didn't light it. He simply stared at it. "I feel like I've failed Reid every time I fight with Morgan." Rossi could see the signs that Ethan's usual coping mechanisms weren't working. "I'm starting to run out of space on my board of shame." He added sardonically.

"You think you're alone in that?" Rossi asked incredulously. Ethan sighed wryly and shook his head.

"No, not really." He replied, deflated. It just hit me harder than usual." He put the cigarette back in it's pack without smoking it. He patted Rossi on the shoulder. "Thanks David." He said quietly.

"Everyone needs to let off some steam." Rossi said with a shrug. Ethan would've replied, but JJ poked her head outside quickly.

"Garcia's found something."

* * *

_Did you like it? Please let me know. I'd like some __**gentle**__ feed back on Ethan, if you please. Other than that, I love you all and please review and keep a weather eye out for the next chapter. _

_Peace and Love,_

_-East_


	6. The String

_So my dear readers here we are again, have I told you lately how much I love you guys? Because I do. This chapter comes with a very important warning: __**This chapter contains vulgar language and racist terms.**__ While I assure you, __**none**__ of these views reflect my own, I do feel obligated to warn you of my character's racism. If you can handle it, skip over it somehow. I will warn you future chapters are going to be a lot more mature, the rating for the entire story may go up, it depends. Anyway __**reader's discretion is advised.**_

_Read on!_

* * *

They all filed into the nearest room, to see Garcia on the wide screen monitor of Detective Riesling's desktop. She'd been up just as late as them but she couldn't resist making a crack at their appearances.

"You all look lovely." Garcia said with a cheery smile. She felt her own heart lift a little as she saw their intense expressions ease. "I've been digging through the immigration databases and I found five current citizens who immigrated from Rwanda."

"How many of them male?" Morgan asked his baby girl on the screen.

"Two. Both in their late twenties. One's twenty nine, the other's twenty seven." Garcia replied twirling her pink feather topped pen. "Their names are Samuel and Ak..." She attempted to pronounce the next name. "Akkisa...Eh...tom...bi?"

"Itombe." Ethan said trying to help her out. The team looked at him for clarification. "It's a fairly common last name. Like Smith or something." He explained briefly obviously a bit uncomfortable with the silent demand for an explanation.

"Current residences?" Riesling asked. They had almost forgotten she was there.

"That's the problem ma'am." Garcia replied tickering away on her key board. "The records say Samuel Itombe moved a few weeks ago from 98 Stonehenge Drive in a suburb called Cedar Hill after what looks like a very messy divorce and custody battle."

"There's our stressor." Hotch said.

"However, there is no current address for either of them. Sorry, loves." Garcia said. There was a general sigh of disappointment but Garcia wasn't done. "However, I do have the current residence of Samuel Itombe's wife and his mother. Akkisa's parents live in...Maine, even with the jet you probably couldn't interview them before our unsubs kill again." The images of two woman's driver's licenses appeared on screen. The one on the right was a picture of woman with incredibly dark skin and a small smile. She looked to be just a year of sixty. On the left was someone much different, a white woman named Sophie Valjean, obviously she'd been quick to take her maiden name back after she divorced Samuel. She didn't look a day over twenty five.

"Just a few miles out of my jurisdiction." Riesling replied shaking her head.

"Valjean..." Rossi said to himself. "Is she French?" He asked Garcia. Ethan's face went from all business to surprised then...thoughtful.

"Yes, she immigrated from France when she was..." More typing. "...ten. She's recently gotten a job as a French tutor at a local high school."

"Bet the boys love that." Prentiss joked grimly. Sophie was indeed a looker. She was about 5'9" according to her driver's license. She had blonde hair, blue eyes and the type of smile you only see on women like Heidi Klum and Nicole Kidman.

"Why a French girl though?" Ethan asked more to himself than anyone else but he got his question answered anyway, with another question of course.

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked, the undertone in his voice commanding he elaborate.

"The French put Rwanda under marital rule. If anything, I would think that'd be cause for resentment not..."

"It obviously didn't work out." Morgan said. To an untrained ear like Riesling, he was simply contributing to the sting of reasoning. "I don't see the problem."

"That's because you didn't let me finish." Ethan replied. Prentiss could feel the anger bubbling up over the Asian man's skin. Garcia swallowed thickly, she should've seen this coming. "Garcia, did the divorce have anything to do with abuse?"

"Um...yes...actually, especially after the Unsub lost his job at..." She searched for his former place of employment, unable to remember the name. "Anderson and Anderson Law Firm."

"So he has an issue with dominance, that explains the sexual assault." Ethan replied, Hotch nodded silently agreeing.

She pulled up a copy of the business card. It was of two Black men with lighter than average skin, broad faces and long noses. If these men weren't Philadelphia natives, they would been considered Tutsi in Rwanda.

"These men have daughters don't they? In their early twenties, pretty?" Rossi asked.

"When you're right, you're right." Garcia said nodding.

"We're dealing with a power driven killer." Morgan said. "Inspired by the Tsitsi..."

"Tutsi." Ethan corrected, but realized everyone was staring at him again. "Sorry."

"The Genocide in Rwanda. The superiority of one race. What does this say about his partner?" He asked. Prentiss had an answer for that one.

"He's there for the thrill rather than the mission." She looked back at the screen. "Garcia can you bring up the Akkisa's criminal record again?" It was instantly on screen. It was just as she thought. "A lot of these are drug charges and theft. The crimes steadily get more and more severe. First it started of with weed then went all the way up to LSD. Then petty theft up to Grand Theft Auto. He goes for the bigger thrill each time."

"It's a wonder he's still on the street." Though he hadn't meant it that way, Hotch saw from the corner of his eye that Riesling took that a bit too personally.

"Momma's loaded." Garcia replied. "She paid bail each time." A perfectly logical explanation.

"Thank you, Garcia." Hotch said. Garcia smiled albeit a little proudly.

"Much obliged as always, Obi Wan." She replied and she turned off the monitor. Hotch went into drill sergeant mode.

"Prentiss, Rossi: You're going to the wife's house maybe she knows where Samuel is. Grace, Morgan: You're going to the mother's house, you are the two people she'll be most comfortable talking to." As much as they didn't want to admit it, the mother would be more comfortable talking to a man similar to her own race and a man who spoke her native language. They just had to get there without killing each other. Hotch would've told JJ to go with them, but JJ had the same exact same problem with Grace. That would only cause them more stress. "JJ, you, me and Riesling are going to speak with Samuel's former employers." They all parted ways. Rossi cast a glance back at Ethan who was bristling. He was really wishing he smoked that last cigarette.

"They're going to kill each other." Prentiss said almost despairing. "I thought they were going to put their dukes up right there in front of everyone before we presented the profile." She got in the passenger side, she knew from experience that Rossi was not going to let her have the keys.

"Let's hope they'll remember that they are professionals. Not high schoolers." Rossi replied sarcastic as ever as he started the government issue SUV.

"I've never seen Morgan act like this." Prentiss said a little worried. "I mean, considering everything that's happened to the team lately."

"What's still happening to us." Rossi replied gravely. They sunk back into that all too familiar depression again. They found themselves falling into that hole Reid left when he was taken from them. His mother leaving messages on the public line of the BAU only ripped it open further. The months had taught them though how to pull themselves out of that hole. "Let's just focus on the case Emily." Rossi replied looking over and smiling as much as the cloud over them would allow him to.

The ride for Morgan and Grace was excruciatingly long. Not only was 439 North Liberty Bell Lane two hours away, it was down the most tourist filled street of Philly complete with traffic jams galore. Morgan focused as much as he could on the road before him. He didn't want Ethan to be here more anymore than Ethan wanted to be in the same city with him, and he was sure of that. They were silent until Ethan spared a yawn.

"Don't fall asleep." Morgan said before he could stop himself. Luckily Ethan didn't reply. Instead he opened the window and starting digging in his pockets. A cigarette probably. But whatever he was looking for wasn't there.

"Goddammit..." He grumbled. He sat back and up the window back up. They must've fallen out of his pocket. There was more silence until Ethan yawned again.

"Not used to it?" Morgan asked.

"When I heard that from Emily, it sounded a lot less condescending." Ethan replied crossing his arms and looking back out the window. "I'm sure Jordan had the same problem." He was referring to Agent Jordan Todd, an acquaintance of his who was referenced on his recommendation.

"She couldn't handle it either." Morgan said darkly.

"What makes you think _I_ can't handle this?" Ethan asked. It was rhetorical. Morgan actually had a few reasons just by looking at his file. The string between them was pulled even tighter than before and somewhere between 5th and Jefferson, it finally snapped. "You know what? I give up." Ethan finally said.

"What?"

"I give up." Ethan replied in the same even tone. "I'm tired of guessing. What the hell do you _want_ from me?" He asked.

"I just want to make sure you're not the screw up your file says you are." Morgan retorted dangerously.

"Whether I screw up or not, is none of your business." Ethan wasn't backing down from that fact. What he did in his private life was just that..._private_.

"Whatever you do affects the team." Morgan replied jerking to a stop at a red light. "You're not going to drag us down."

"Have I?" Ethan asked. There was more silence to be had as they took they entered the gate of the Sunset Burroughs Gated Community. Ethan started out the window watching only a few trees pass before he spoke again. "I don't see it." Morgan didn't reply this time. "I don't see the man Reid spoke so highly of." Those were fighting words, Morgan nearly pulled over.

"What did you just say to me?"

"Reid talked about you all the time, like a kid would about his older brother." Ethan's voice was no longer angry, but solemn and maybe even a little sad. "Honestly, I wanted the chance to meet the man he talked about. But apparently, that's not possible and I can't help but think I've let Spencer down by not being able to find him." He pointed briefly to a large house in the gated community. "There's the house." Suddenly, Morgan had gone from angry and stubborn to somber and confused.

Reid talked about him that much? How well did Reid actually know Grace? Failed him? That must mean...he failed Reid too. The confusion was replaced by guilt and then slowly sank into shame as he slid out of the SUV. He bottled it up and thrust it aside for later, out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Ethan was doing the same thing. Slowly, they each put their games faces on and rang on the doorbell of one Oresia Itombe. They didn't expect a White woman to answer the door.

"Yes?"

"May we speak with Mrs. Itombe?" Morgan asked. The young woman's eyes narrowed.

"What is this concerning?" She asked slowly.

"We're with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, it's about her son, Samuel." The young lady's eyes went wide and she stammered for a few moments. She was stunned to actually be face to face with the FBI. _She must not get out much..._Ethan thought folding his arms. "Is she home?"

"Uh, yes...just let me uh...get her." She stammer. "Come...Come in." She opened the door a little wider and the two men stepped in both muttering a short "thank you".

The inside of the house was incredible. It was horribly large for a woman who lived alone. Houses like these made Ethan incredibly nervous not that he'd let it show. Sure, his father had been an infamous politician, but the only thing the man had been famous for was his quick decent into shame and Ethan had only been nine at the time. He spent most of his young life in and out of single wide trailer parks as the only Asian kid in the white-trashiest part of town.

"Wow." Morgan muttered.

"I know." Ethan replied for agreeing with him for once. The sapped out of their reverie the minute they saw Mrs. Itombe descended the stairs. Ethan half expected her to say "_I'm ready for my close up, Mr. DeMille_". Instead her greeting went something like this.

"I didn't expect to see FBI agents to look so...average." She said marching up to them and shaking their hands. "I'm Oresia Itombe." Her accent was certainly formidable and so was she. Just by glancing at her Grace and Morgan could tell that they were the last people she wanted in her house.

"We're Special Agent Morgan and Special Agent Grace. We've come to talk to you about..."

"My son, yes, Marie told me." She offered a hand to the nearest couch. "Come, sit." They each sat down on the white couch while she sat in the armchair adjacent to her. She immediately made herself comfortable. "Coffee? Tea?" Both men declined by waving their hands. "I insist." She said a little firmer. Grace and Morgan exchanged glances.

"Coffee's fine." They both said.

"Marie!" She called so sharply Ethan jumped a little.

"Yes ma'am?" She called from somewhere within the bowels of the massive house.

"Coffee."

"Yes, ma'am." Mrs. Itombe turned back to them eyebrow perked condescendingly.

"Now, great injustice do you think my son has done?" Mrs. Itombe asked obviously not taking them anywhere she seriously as she should. Her expression was a borderline glare as she scrutinized them both.

"I assure you ma'am we're just here to ask questions." Ethan said in Swahili. Any resentment toward them suddenly melted away.

"Oh you speak Swahili!" She replied using the foreign language.

"Yes ma'am I do."

"How ironic." She said in English staring uninterestedly at Derek who in turn looked at Ethan who said nothing. Mrs. Itombe suddenly seemed very at ease with them, being reminded of home did wonders to people. Ethan and the unsub's mother had a short untranslated conversation and Morgan was staring to feel out of the loop. He did manage to catch a few words like "Darfur", "Sudan" and "United Nations" but that was it. Every time Mrs. Itombe would laugh, Ethan could only bear to chuckle nervously. Morgan wondered what the hell she was saying to make him so uncomfortable, he was getting nervous just looking at him. Then finally the coffee came and they could get down to business.

Marie tottered back with a silver tray with a steaming coffee pot with cream, sugar and even honey. Mrs. Itombe was incredibly old fashioned. She embraced antiquity. Marie poured them each coffee with practiced alacrity and her employer only seemed marginally pleased.

"Thank you Marie, you may go." She said to the girl who then meekly left the room. Mrs. Itombe watched the woman walk away with a smile. Then then shook her head and laughed, tilting her head back. "She's like a dog. What an ignorant bitch!" Ethan choked on his coffee.

"What'd she say?" Morgan asked quietly.

"You'd be better off not knowing." Ethan replied grimly. He turned his attention back to Mrs. Itombe. "About your son, Mrs. Itombe..." He started off in English. "Can you tell us about what happened before you immigrated to the US?" He finished in Swahili. Now completely at ease, Mrs. Itombe seemed to abandon any plans of protecting her son. As she explained the events leading up to their departure in Swahili, Ethan translated for Morgan who she was pointedly ignoring.

"Her husband was a part of Impuza Magambi, but after he was hurt, it was her descion to leave the country. People stopped...being able to...tell the difference between Hutu and...Tutsi...and they were just killing people." He said having trouble with some parts of her little speech.

"You keep stopping." Morgan said when she paused to sip her coffee.

"I'm trying to leave out all the cuss words and racial slurs." Ethan replied flatly. He didn't like this woman no matter how generous she was being. Mrs. Itombe began talking again. "Samuel really looked up to his father, and admired his...uh...work...but he seemed to grow out of it when he got older."

"_He became a bitch for the Americans._" Ethan nearly choked on his coffee again but now he was beginning to expect this vulgarity from her.

"He became a servant to America." He said. Mrs. Itombe went on. "He even went so far as to work for Tutsi lawyers."

"That's not what I said!" Mrs. Itombe spat. "I said cockroaches. Motherfucking cockroaches." She sized up Morgan briefly. "No offense. I mean, you have the skin but not the nose...you're passable." She said waving a dismissive hand.

"I think you're mistaken." Ethan said trying to laugh off his growing outrage. "Those men were born and raised in America they don't have any..."

"They look the part, not much difference." Mrs. Itombe replied flatly. Derek and Ethan fought the mutual urge to roll their eyes. Ethan was really starting to think that he could not stand to be in the room with this woman any longer. Mrs. Itombe poured them each another round of coffee, even if they didn't ask for it and continued on in Swahili, the language she was obviously more comfortable with. Ethan continued to translate.

"When her husband passed away, the, ahem, old Samuel started coming back." His face grew darker as she continued to speak. "He started beating that...excuse me...white bitch in the mouth when she talked back to him. She got even sassier when he lost his job and he just started beating her whenever." Morgan was slightly horrified at the pride she showed when she punched the air. "But she didn't know when to back down and she decided to leave him and take that curse of a daughter with her." Ethan scratched the back of his neck as she continued. "She considers her a coward and an... Ignorant fuck." he cleared his throat after. He only encountered racism on this scale interrogating prisoners at Guantanamo. "Unfortunately after he was divorced, he was evicted from his house, and she hasn't heard from him since."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was with Akki, right now." Mrs. Itombe said in English after they all suffered an awkward silence. "Akkisa's my nephew. Good friends those two. His parents kicked him out when he decided to drop out of high school a few years ago. A sweet boy. Complete _dumbass_."

"What's she say?" Morgan asked as she ranted.

"Dumbass."

"Ah."

"You call them...potheads?" She asked needing help with the American slang. "He smokes weed and Methamphetamine."

"Normally we call them prison inmates." Ethan said before he could stop himself fortunately. Mrs. Itombe didn't take offense, in fact, she thought he was being funny.

"Even though they kicked him out, my sister pays his bail every time, he might as well still be living with them. He's still just a boy." She said pleasantly. "He'd jump off a building just for the rush and we'd be right back to put them together." Morgan and Grace were ready to go now.

"Do you know where Akkisa would be now?" Morgan asked.

"Well, his address is under an American name. God forbid you Americans submit yourself to a bit of culture. I mean what kind of a name is Ethan for a Chink?" She bleated pointing to Ethan briefly. Ethan didn't reply verbally or physically. She wrote down the address on the back of a business card. "It's under the name Adam West. He...likes Batman." She said in Swahili she handed the card to Ethan.

"Thank you, Ma'am." Ethan said, willing himself to smile. He in turn the card to Ethan who bid good bye to the friendly old racist and went to call Hotch. Ethan was left alone with the woman.

"Mrs. Itombe, you do realize that your son and nephew are the prime suspects of a federal investigation? They've killed entire families." He felt obligated to say this, even though he was sure he would get through to her. And he was right, she laughed.

"Agent Grace, what do you do with when you find a cockroach?" She asked. Ethan made it clear he wasn't going to answer. "You kill it." She went back to her chair. "Besides, I've got enough lawyers to fill Hell to full occupancy. They are not going to let your government put him in jail for using common sense." Ethan simply muttered "right" and made to leave. "Bye Agent Grace." She said with a wave. "You that name really doesn't fit you. Chungking sounds a lot more believable."

"Good bye Mrs. Itombe." Ethan all but turned on his heel and left the woman to her housekeeper and coffee. Morgan was still on the phone, this time with Rossi, when he got in the car.

"Hotch and JJ are just leaving Anderson and Anderson, Rossi and Prentiss are on their way to the address now." Morgan said stiffly. The two had forgotten their earlier argument and were now settled into a sickening awkward funk. For once, they had something to agree on.

"She called me a Chink." Ethan said making a face, not upset but confused.

"Not like it matters." Morgan said, Ethan let out a snort.

"Easy for you to say. You're "passable"." Morgan noticed the sarcasm and found it...funny.

"Did it get to you?" Morgan asked no longer taking petty jabs but carrying on the sarcasm.

"No, I'm half-Japanese. She's not only a racist, she sucks at it." Ethan replied shaking his head. They didn't really laugh together but they shared a short scoffing chuckle. At least, they didn't feel like killing each other for now, and for the sake of the moment, they were forced to keep it that way.

* * *

_Yeah, don't say I didn't warn you. Can't you feel the motherly love? Well, the case is drawing to a close and all you patient readers will most likely see another Spencer Update soon. You may even see a Katie update, but you have to read and review ladies and gents, but if my assumptions are correct, I'd say mostly ladies. If I'm wrong feel free to let me know. Remember, read, review and make me happy. I love you reader. _

_Live longer and Prosper_

_-East_


	7. Case Closed

_Okay, so the case wraps up in this chapter! There's not much to say here only that you know how much I love you guys. Remember there are a few wordy-durds in here so if you can't handle it, the back button's just within reach, but you're on Fanfiction so I assume you can. _

_Read on!_

* * *

In spite of the blue eye shadow, Detective Riesling was one hell of a taskmaster. In a matter of just a few phone calls, she'd not only called up her backup Team and a two SWAT Team members in a matter of minutes, but they were fully prepared with automatic rifles and bullet proof vests for the BAU members too. Rossi, Prentiss and Hotch were with Reisling while JJ single-handedly managed to keep the nosy press at bay during this messy operation.

The address was at the top floor of Parker Tower, a low-rent high rise apartment complex. The walls of the building were drab, dreary gray. The cries of hungry infants, battered wives and scurrying rats could heard all around them as each team member made their way upstairs. Emily found herself cursing the lack of elevators as she tailed Rossi with Hotch beside her.

Reaching Apartment 1506, they all gathered at the door ready for just about anything. Riesling and the SWAT team having never experienced a couple of mad men on this scale were the most apprehensive, but still the anticipation came with the job. For police and FBI alike, the anticipation must be embraced or you may just go crazy.

Since Morgan wasn't here, Hotch took it upon himself to kick the door open. The door flung open and struck the wall.

"FBI! Hands up!" A young man matching Akkisa Itombe's description from toe to tip leapt up and went for a long blade in the corner of the room, a machete. Ethan was right, not that they doubted him or anything. Akkisa stood there wanting to defend himself but he was too high to even stand straight.

"Put the weapon down, Mr. Itombe." Hotch demanded. Akkisa wavered but held the machete.

"I...I have a weapon!" He shouted his brain finally catching up to the situation.

"But it down or we'll shoot you." Rossi said clearly trying to get through to the man who was clearly too pumped up with drugs to fully understand his predicament. By the third "drop it", Akkisa finally understood and dropped the machete. He shakily got on his knees and placed his hands behind his head. Riesling let out a sigh of relief but knew it wasn't over. She was just glad no shots were fired.

"Where's Samuel?" Rossi asked planting his knee right into Akkisa's back as he cuffed him. Prentiss holstered her gun and kicked the large machete away. There would be two of these laying around if Samuel was still in the tiny one room apartment. There were blankets piled on the couch topped with low-end liquor bottle. Someone was obviously sleeping on the couch and drinking like a fish.

"I don't know!" Akkisa cried out in his heavy accent. Hotch knew he was lying.

"We have you indicted for federal charges, we will add obstruction of justice and no one will be able to pay bail this time." He threatened. The meth-ed up mess of a man caved at the mention jail.

"He-he said he was going to clean out his desk at work when he sobered up!" He cried. Rossi all but hoisted the man to his feet and threw him into the hands of the SWAT Team and Riesling who were all too happy to take him.

"Wait, Samuel was fired months ago." Riesling said. Hotch nodded gravely, he was already on the phone. "The Andersons are still at work...and their daughters are their secretaries. Damnit! We were _just_ there!"

Even with the sirens blaring, Derek and Ethan had only just gotten into the downtown area. They were on their way to Parker Tower until Morgan's phone rang again.

"Morgan."

"Samuel Itombe is headed for Anderson and Anderson Law Firm. We'll try to get you a SWAT team as fast as possible. This man is armed and on a mission. He'll kill anyone who gets in his way. Under no circumstances can he get to either men is that clear?"

"Clear, Hotch." And Morgan hung up and took a sudden U-turn. Ethan would've cried out but judging by the tone of the phone call this was serious. He knew from experience that one radio call was all it took for all Hell to break loose.

"Where're we going?" He asked.

The law firm. Unsub's on his way there. He's about to go to the source of his anger." Morgan replied flooring the gas pedal.

Inside the Anderson and Anderson Law Firm, Damon and Christian Anderson, brothers and lawyer were settling down to eat their lunches in Damon's office with their daughters who they employed out of nepotism. Even though it wasn't technically ethical, it was just hard to find a job in this city with the state this country was in. They didn't have the hearts to watch Destiny and Paris flail on the edge of near poverty with the incredible prices of tuition nowadays.

The four of them had retreated into the office happily eating Chinese food. The girls talked excitedly amongst themselves as they always did while their fathers talked about something other than work for a change. The office door was locked and the lobby was free of any clients.

"You should've seen him Destiny, he was like Jesus with a guitar." Paris said starry eyed as she made quick work of her sweet and sour chicken. Damon frowned and looked at her somewhat jokingly but still full of paternal protectiveness.

"Well Jesus better keep his hands to himself." He said. Destiny pouted looking to her own father who nodded in agreement.

"He just bought us drinks." She whined good-naturedly. Christian quirked an eyebrow at his daughter.

"You think I don't know the signs of a broke romeo when I see one?" He asked in good humor. "Destiny your dad was quite the-" He was cut off by a loud slam against the door. Then there was another and the door knob was knocked loose before the door was thrown open. The horribly angry Samuel Itombe burst in wielding a large machete. Destiny was the first to scream. Both Damon and Christian stepped in front of their daughters attempting to shield them from their former employee.

"Fucking cockroaches!" Samuel cried. "You took everything from me! You and all your filthy whores can go straight to Hell!" He advanced on them. The girls screamed as he raised the machete.

"Freeze!"

"FBI!"

Two men one Black, the other Asian, burst through the door, each carrying an automatic gun aiming directly at their assailant. Samuel stopped in mid strike any further and Damon Anderson would've been decapitated. He was frozen. He had no gun. Even if the men had no body armor, they were still much more trained than he was. Even only half sober, he could tell when he was outmatched. If he charged them, he'd be shot. If he cut down the roaches, he'd also be shot. He wouldn't even get a chance to see his work in action, and that was the whole point, to see the roaches eradicated, he couldn't continued The Work if he was dead or in prison. So he did the only thing logical thing his brain could conjure up. There was a door to his right leading to Christian's office. Morgan and Grace hadn't noticed it because it was the same color of the wall, for situations just like this, ironically enough. Samuel dashed for it. Now, Morgan and Grace noticed the door. Morgan took off after the man chasing him into the adjacent office and down the hallway. However, Ethan turned to the brother lawyers and their daughters.

"How many exits are there from this floor?" He asked urgently.

"Only one!" Christian replied cradling his sobbing daughter. Ethan took off and headed for the one set of stairs that led to the lower floor.

Morgan chased Itombe down but there were too many twists and turns in the hallways to get a clear shot at him and he was pretty damn fast for a lawyer. Samuel seemed more interested in losing him through the hallways than heading for the exit. Or maybe he'd forgotten where the exit was but a few more twists and turns later, Samuel had finally found it He sped up heading for the door situated in the corner. He was only a few steps from reaching it when something crashed into his face right between his eyes. The force knocked him completely off his feet. Morgan skidded to a stop at the sight of Ethan slamming his elbow into the unsub's face like a solider with an AK-47.

Grace roughly turned the man over and began to using his right hand to cuff him with one knee digging into the man's middle back and burying Samuel's face into the cold tile floor with his left hand. Unable to fight back, Samuel could only flail in anger cursing and sobbing. Ethan and Derek breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good job Agent Grace." Morgan said nodding.

"You too Agent Morgan." Ethan replied.

The sounds of sirens could be heard downstairs.

This case was over.

_On the Jet_

The after working nearly twenty four hour days, the fatigue was starting to set in for everyone once they had a moment of peace on the jet. Prentiss could hear Ethan on his cell phone.

"Yeah, yeah I'll be home tonight. Can see you?" A warm smile crossed his face. "Okay, I'll see you then. I love you." He hung up and Emily smiled mischievously at him and he went a little sheepish. He sat back and looked out of the window and sighed. The weekend was on it's way and he'd have some time to himself and his main squeeze provided that there wasn't another case and that was possible for either of them. He went to put in his head phones until Morgan slid into the seat in front of him. But this time, the tension wasn't there. They both had gone too far with their resentment for each other it was time to own up to it.

"You must've seen a lot of combat in the National Guard." Morgan said plainly. Ethan pursed his lips and nodded simply.

"Yeah. I did." He said.

"Dafur?"

"Yeah."

"How many languages _can_ you speak?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"Eight including English." Ethan replied. "It's kind of a hobby. I've spoken Japanese since I was a baby, Spanish in Elementary School, French in middle...German in high school...and so on. I learned Swahili from a refugee I met in Sudan. She lives in Michigan now."

"And you remembered it all?"

"Yeah, I...didn't exactly have much to aspire to looking at my parents. I guess you could say it was mean of escape." He replied. There was more awkward silence to be had but this time Morgan spoke up.

"Did Reid...really talk about me that much...?" Ethan sighed guiltily.

"Look I went a little too far when I said that you..."

"No, no...Rossi told me I may have been treading into dangerous territory when I brought up..."

"You did. But so did I." Ethan said waving a dismissive hand. "For the record, Agent Morgan..."

"Just Morgan."

"Morgan." Ethan replied. "I'd like to live past my mistakes. I'm sure you would too. I'm hoping we could put aside our pride and have one of those moments where we shake hands and reintroduce each other." Morgan looked at him quizzically. Ethan laughed a little. "Yeah, I think it's corny too." They shared a small laugh. Hotch in the seat behind them, shared a glance with Rossi who looked relieved. Prentiss looked to JJ but unfortunately, she didn't look pleased in the slightest. Morgan took a deck of cards out of his pocket and offered them to Ethan.

"You know how to play Gin?"

_So we have a nice tidy little ending to the case and Ethan and Morgan have smoothed things over. But JJ doesn't seem too glad to see that happen, why is that? Hm, guess we'll see. Keep your eyes peeled! There's a Reid update coming next chapter! Remember to read and review to further enjoy this story._

_Love, Peace and Chicken Grease!_

_-East_


	8. Masochist: A Spencer Reid Update

_**WARNING**__: This chapter is full of graphic references of Bondage, non-consensual sex, child molestation and generally disturbing content, please, please, please use discretion while reading if you are underage. Really. I mean it. Seriously. The rating my go up from now on. Reader's discretion is advised._

_Read on._

* * *

The house in Savannah was bigger than the one in North Carolina and it was warmer, burning in fact. Ben was having trouble getting used to the heat. Josh didn't seem to mind, or let it bother him. He ran his hand through Josh's hair as he slowly ate breakfast. Josh didn't look up. He only closed his eyes and went still. It seemed he was still under the impression that he was this "Spencer" person. He did everything he could to get him to believe just who he was an how much he meant to him and he tried to run away each time...he didn't think he could bare to lose Josh again so he kept him there by any means necessary. Josh's right arm was handcuffed to the leg of the dining room chair.

He'd gotten all of Josh's favorite food ready for their new house. However, he had to keep Josh weak so if he did run, he wouldn't get far. He kind of liked him this way. He wasn't as free spirited and he wouldn't wander off. He was so smart too. When he had to put him in the cellar for misbehaving, he could hear Josh muttering different statistics under his breath as he tried to stay warm. Did you know the one out of every eight rapists was sexually abused themselves? Ben was forced to keep the cellar as cold possible to keep Josh vulnerable. It got so bad, he had to chain him to the wall, he had to buy a dog collar and a chain. Now Josh knows better.

While he loved the old Josh, he _liked_ this Josh much better. This Josh was quieter, nicer and smarter. This Josh couldn't hit it back or talk back. This Josh wouldn't wander off and Ben would make sure he never would. One thing he did miss though, is how much the old Josh liked bondage. All the leather and whips were really exciting. The old Josh was kind of...in this case "kind of" means "seriously"...a masochist. He liked to be slapped around or burned with a cigarette butt...whatever Ben had to dish out, Josh took and it always made for a night of wonderful love-making. But...this Josh was different.

This Josh screamed...and even cried. He remembered when he burned him with the cattle prod, he screamed and begged for him to stop. After a while though, Ben decided that he liked this new game Josh was playing. He had to admit the screaming did turn him on an awful lot. The pleas to stop got to him and made it even worse. The harder he fought, the farther Ben got. At first it was a real pain in the ass but then it got to be kind of fun. He did miss Josh's moaning though, it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

"You know..." Ben tried breaking the silence. "...I don't have work for another hour or so..." Josh hadn't started eating again. "You better eat. This is probably all you're getting today." He caressed Josh's hair. He frowned. "You're hair's getting too long..." He said thoughtfully. After a pause, he smiled. "Wait here." He left the room to go retrieve a pair of scissors and a comb. He had to be careful, last time he had scissors around Josh, he had to get stitches. When he came back, Josh was still in the same catatonic state he'd left him in. He stood behind him and started combing Josh's hair. Josh finally moved again, shivering in spite of the general lack of air conditioning. Why did he flinch every time he touched him?

After combing out Josh's mess of hair, Ben began cutting it. Lock after brown lock began to fall to the floor until Josh's hair was cropped up to his ears with hardly any give in the back. After he was done, Ben ran a hand through his hair and inspected it with an air of triumph. He placed the scissors out of Josh's reach and wrapped his arms around him kissing his neck gently. He loved how Josh smelled. He had to bathe twice everyday, or the smell would go away. He let his hands wander over those skinny arms as his lips nibbled on the shell of Josh's ear. A small whimper slipped from Josh's throat. Ben smiled. He was giving in. He leaned in and licked the tear streaming down Josh's cheek.

"I love you." He whispered before kissing Josh deeply and aggressively. Just as he was getting into it, a sharp pain clamped down onto his tongue. He cried out and wrench himself away from him slapping him hard across the face. Josh stared up at him and spit the blood onto the floor. It was a challenge. Ben grinned and wiped his mouth. Suddenly the fear with back in Josh's eyes where it should be. He unlocked the handcuffs from the chair. Before Josh could even think of fighting back, he was already safely secured to the faucet of the sink. Face forward facing the window where a faint reflection could be seen. Ben used a damp wash rag to gag Josh and he grabbed a knife from the drawer. This is when it got good. He held the knife to his neck and pushed it against his lovely pale skin. He forced his head up, by his hair to look at their reflection in the window. By this time, Ben was so aroused he couldn't even begin to think about preparation or lube, besides Josh liked it rough. Using both hands to keep the knife and Josh's head in place, Ben fucked him right there against the counter. When Josh's legs gave out, Ben kept him up by just thrusting into him harder.

He unlocked the handcuffs when they finished. Josh was too weak to even stand and he hit the ground with a yelp of pain. Ben found himself hard again at the sight of blood and cum pouring out of his lover. But he knew Josh had to rest so he pulled him up and forced his mouth open and left him a good bye present that nearly chocked him. He clamped a hand over Josh's mouth and forced him to swallow. Now spent and sexually satisfied, Ben stood upright and pulled on his pants absorbing the sight of Josh with cum pouring out of both ends and a bit of it sprinkled on his face panting and laying there limp, bloody and at his mercy to fuck any time he liked. He checked the time and sighed glumly and put the knife back into the locked cabinet.

"Looks like I have to go work now." He said with a sigh. "You can clean yourself up right?" There was no answer and he took it as a "yes". "I'll see you later." He grabbed his keys and left the house. There were two exits out of the house. Josh bought locks that only locked on the outside for each door for when he wasn't home. He also locked all the knife cabinets, lest Josh try to escape or kill himself again. Since the house was old and a very bad part of town, there were already bars on the windows. So he trusted Josh would be there when he got back. He started his truck and drove off to work.

Left in silence, Spencer tried to stand. He placed his bound hands on the ground and rolled over onto his stomach. He pushed up...slowly. The combined plight of malnutrition, sleep deprivation and constant abuse weakened his body considerably. The way he saw it, he only had a 16% chance of actually getting to his feet and a 5% chance of making it out of the kitchen without his legs giving out again.

The minute he got his elbows straight, his arms buckled and he crashed to the floor. He tried again, crawling this time. He moved only a foot before his body cried out in protest and he fell. He gave it one more try to at least get to the chair to pull himself up but couldn't. He could feel the still warm seed of Ben Meyers trickling down his thighs and coating the inside of his throat. He could barely even wipe off his face. He tried to stand again, a tragedy's worth of anger and frustration filled his chest. He couldn't even get his arms to straighten this time. His face hit the floor. He tried again.

"Come on...stand up Reid." He whispered to himself. "Come...on..." He failed. "Get up..." He failed again. "Stand up!" His face crashed into the floor once more. "GET UP!" He shouted to his himself, but he was completely exhausted and his body fell to the floor for the last time. In a burst of adrenaline and pure anger he slammed his chained fists against the cabinet. "I HATE YOU!" he screamed. Whether it was to himself or his captor, he didn't know. "I HATE YOU!" The screaming gave way to helpless sobbing. He rolled over on his right side. He didn't even have the comfort of wrapping his arms around himself. He lay there on the linoleum floor longing for the life he had that seemed nothing more than a distant dream. His weakened body shook with each bitter sob. "Help me..." He whispered to someone...anyone who he wished could hear him JJ, Gideon, Rossi, Derek, Emily Hotch, Ethan...even God. "Someone please help me..."

_The same night at about 10:00 pm_

Sonya Casper, just got a job as a general custodian at the Savannah Marriott at the worst possible time. There was some religious conference going on, that centered on kids and everybody and their mother had come to this hotel. She couldn't stand the noise or the general disarray. She was trying to get clean so she could get her kids back, she couldn't do that if the chaos drove her insane at the end of every shift. That's why she changed her shift to nights. She let the owners and nurses of the Halfway House she resided in know and they approved it. Fortunately, it was working, she been sober and clean for almost two weeks now. Pretty good for a women who used to go so far as to drink NyQuil for a buzz.

Everything had seemed quiet for now, so she'd gone down to the first floor to sit down for a minute. But before she could, something small, brunette and Caucasian ran into the back of her legs. She fell ready to cuss the little asshole out when she realized the child was crying. Not just crying but wailing. She was bruised, her lips was split and bleeding and she had a rather deep cut on her left eye. Her brown and curly hair had been pulled. Sonya knew these signs. She had a cousin who was treated like this, she committed suicide when she was thirteen.

"Are...you okay?" She asked the crying little girl.

"I...I...I don't want him to touch me!" She cried latching onto a woman she didn't know. But she looked like her mommy, so she hoped the woman would help her...not take her back to that awful room with Mr. Albright and the camera. Sonya saw her children in this little girl and her motherly instincts that had been dampened by years of alcohol and drug abuse awakened. She held the little girl tightly.

"Shh...it's okay, it's okay." She cooed until the little girl was able to speak again.

"Doctor Reid...told...told me I should call 911." She said choking on her own stunted breath.

"Who's Dr. Reid, honey?" Sonya asked.

"I...I met him at a gas station. He said if Mr. Albright touched me again I...I..." She broke down again and Sonya decided to take action. She hefted the little girl up and carried her to the concierge desk. Where a rather bored, Sarah Winton sat. Once she saw Sonya with the child though, she sat up.

"What's wrong?" She caught a glimpse of the little girl's face. "Who did that to her?"

"Some man she calls...uh...Mr. Albright I think." Sonya explained hastily. "Look him up on your computer...and hand me the phone, we need to call the police." Sarah didn't even hesitate. She tossed her the phone.

"911, what's your emergency?" A serious though still somehow pleasant voice said on the other line.

"Yeah hi my name is...Sonya Casper. I've got a child here about six her name is..." She looked at the child. "What's your name sweetie?"

"Katie Stratford."

"Katie Stratford. I think one of the guests at our hotel has molested her or something, either way she's pretty beat up and very upset, with any luck, they don't know she's down here." For the first time ever, Sonya felt grounded enough to spit out every detail and take over a situation. Honestly, it felt great. For the first time, she felt good about being sober but she would save the celebration for later. "She says also mentioned a...Dr. Reid?" She looked at the teary little girl for confirmation but the child just took the phone rather explain it.

"My friend Dr. Spencer Reid told me to call the police." She said sniffling. "He said to make sure to call him that."

"Okay, honey, we'll get someone there immediately." The dispatcher said and Katie handed the phone to Sonya and told them the location. She hung up and turned to Sarah.

"We'll need to hide her." Sarah said quickly.

"What? Why?" Sonya asked.

"What if they come looking for her? We can't let them know where she is." Sarah said. She'd never seen something of this magnitude happen to a child.

"No need to hide her. I'll get her to the police station." She said quickly. The sound of feet thundering down the stairs was heard.

"You don't have a car!"

"That doesn't matter! I'll just take her and run."

"Katie!" A female but still somehow gruff voice shouted harshly from down the hall.

"Go!" Sarah hissed between clenched teeth. Sonya was out of the hotel lobby faster than a bolt of lightning carrying Katie with her. Sarah barely had enough time to get herself together before a dumpy woman of average height came thumping into the lobby.

"I'm looking for a missing child." She sounded more angry than concerned. "She's got brown hair, big blues eyes. You seen her?" Sarah shook her head but couldn't bring herself to speak. Thank God for Drama club. The woman groaned. "Well, if you see her please give her back to Room 516?" Sarah found the strength to eek out of few words.

"I didn't see her anywhere in the lobby." She had, perhaps a bit too loudly. "She must not've left the hotel. I'll alert the staff." She smiled so hard her jaw cracked. "She's probably hiding somewhere."

"She's a stubborn one that's for sure." The woman grumbled.

"What's your name ma'am?" Sarah asked.

"Lucy Albright. First Lady Lucy Albright."

"First lady?" Sarah asked pausing in her writing.

"I'm the wife of Pastor Albright." God, this woman was the most condescending bitch Sarah had ever seen. "What're you writing?"

"Your name. So I can alert the staff." Sarah was trying desperately to stall. "How old are you?"

"Now why the hell do you need to know that?" Mrs. Albright bleated. Sarah forced a smile once more, she wasn't even aware it faded until now.

"Procedure." She said lightly. Just as the word left her mouth, sirens came down the street. Normally that was common in Savannah but then the tell tale blue and red lights filled the windows. Mrs. Albright's eyes went wide and she cracked a punch across Sarah's face and she dashed off. A gaggle of well armed police burst through the doors. "She went that way!" Sarah pointed in the direction of the indoor pool.

"Where's the male suspect?" A police man Sgt. Matthew Epps asked.

"Room 516." Matthew and his crew wasted no time. What they didn't expect was to see a middle aged man, tall intimidating and holding a sawed off shot gun using a group of children as a shield.

Lucy and Jonathan Albright had come prepared.

At the sound of gunshots, Sarah leapt over the concierge desk and bolted before Lucy Albright could come find her. She ran to the police station as fast as her Sketcher's Shape Ups could carry her. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew the police were losing.

Upon arriving at the station, she saw Sonya waiting with Katie who was under the protective wing of the former alcoholic mother hen.

"What happened?"

By the time back up arrived, two children were dead, shot by the ricocheting bullets of Mr. Albright's shotgun the rest were gone. Two policemen were dead and the rest were critically injured. Lucy and Jonathan Albright were gone. Leaving only one message.

_And the Lord called all the children unto him._

Ben had gotten in the habit of watching the 11 o'clock news with Josh in their bed since they moved to Savannah. Josh's right wrist was fastened to the bed post and they were both under the covers and watching Jody Chapin doing her thing. Josh was trembling again under the gentle touch on Ben's lips on his neck.

"Breaking News, tonight at the Savannah Marriott: Two local Policemen are shot dead after children were used as a human shield by the shooter. Dawn Baker has more on the story, Dawn?"

"How terrible..." Ben said shaking his head, the mood officially gone. "How could they do that to children?" Spencer bit the inside of his lip to keep from saying anything. He couldn't take much more damage.

"Jody I'm here at the Savannah Marriott were chaos has broken out the likes of the Dixie Crystals Factory Explosion." That explosion was the biggest tragedy Savannah had suffered in this decade. "Six policemen were gunned down by a high caliber shotgun by one Jonathan Albright." Suddenly, Spencer was engrossed in the news report. Albright...where had he heard that name...? "The rest are critically injured. Two were stabbed in the head by his female accomplice. All survivors are in critical or serious condition."

"And this all started with a maid finding one of the children?" Jody Chapin asked.

"Yes, Jody, Sonya Casper found Katie Stratford running down the hallway presumably away from Albright claiming the man touched her inappropriately." All at once it clicked in Reid's head.

_Katie..._

He wondered if, somehow, someone, God or some other divine power had heard him screaming for help.

_Question to all my readers, should I increase the rating on this story? Or just warn accordingly? Either way thank you all for reading. I need lots of feedback on the chapter. I'm not good with the torture and such so I need pointers and __**constructive**__ criticism, if you please. Read and Review. I love you readers._

_Shalom_

_-East._


End file.
